


Glitter

by Jenovahh



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Female! WoL, Penetration, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenovahh/pseuds/Jenovahh
Summary: It's easy to slap a smile on your face and pretend you don't hate being the Warrior of Light sometimes. That you enjoy constantly saving entire nations and worlds from peril.It's even easier to have an Ascian help you blow off some steam.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Reader, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 15
Kudos: 207





	Glitter

Warrior of Light. **  
**

Liberator of Doma. Savior of Ala Mhigo. Retriever of Coinpurses.

Warrior of Darkness.

Enough titles to sing your praises to fill an entire book, by this point you were sure.

Have books been written yet? You hadn’t been approached yet for a biography. Mayhap you were on the move too much for anyone to sit you down long enough to talk to you about your life; not that your life is much of a secret. 

Any news of your deeds and miracles had reached nearly every part of the continent. At the very least, the only thing missing would be the more trivial escapades or your humble beginnings.

Sometimes you miss those days. The days of stepping out and actually _exploring_. Choosing to help the occasional stranger but still going your own way, seeing the world at your own pace. Some might think not knowing where your next meal would come from daunting, but you had never worried. You could fish. You could hunt.

You could be yourself. _For_ yourself.

It pained you sometimes, to think of the life you could have lived. If you hadn’t met wonderful people like Y’shtola or Thancred...if you hadn’t encountered Lyse in the forest. Or...Papalymo.

Grimacing, you heave out a sigh, trudging along behind the Scions through the Rat’tika Greatwood, its muggy swamps and blistering heat doing nothing to improve your mood. 

After nearly being accosted by the Night’s Blessed, fending off a potential Vauthry invasion, and held at knife point by small army of Viis, you believe you’ve earned a well deserved break, especially knowing that exploring the looming temple nearby is on tomorrow’s list of events.

You are provided with a rather cozy room, given to you by the Viis in exchange for their seal. They are all quite lovely and so is their home, your eyes drifting to the beautiful women of the village as they lead you to your room that you’ll be staying in for the night.

To your surprise there is a plush feather bed resting against the far wall, instead of a hammock like you were expecting giving what all you had seen of the village. A small basin with a mirror rests in a corner of the room as well as a desk, but the room is otherwise for the most part barren. 

None of the luxuries or comforts offered to you back at your room in the Crystarium, and you are just now aware of how concerned the Exarch is for your overall well being and happiness.

You returned to your room after a hearty dinner provided by the ever hospitable Viis, waving to the Scions as you announced you would be retiring to your room for the night, practically falling onto the bed for some well earned rest. 

You had already bathed in their bathhouse, feeling a bit better considering you had dove into the murky waters of the nearby lake filled with Hydaelyn knows what. It wasn’t all bad, being able to dive below and explore the ruins, feeling that sense of discovery and adventure you had longed for when you were a child.

You couldn’t hate the job entirely, even if the stress was monumental. There was absolutely no way you would be able to explore an entirely different world if you had kept to your path as a young adventurer, if you had never joined the Scions.

There might not even be a world at all.

“Really hero, must you think so loudly?”

You’re on your feet before you can blink, dagger in hand as you immediately turn towards the voice. Vision focusing, you meet stark, gold eyes, twinkling in obvious amusement in what must be considered your antics.

“My, you sundered souls are so easily excitable. Though I suppose there would be drawbacks to being unable to sense the very aether around you…” Emet-Selch trails off, hands up turned as he shrugs his already sunken shoulders.

He looks exactly as you had seen him earlier this morning, dressed in the same imperial robes with the same silly white streak in his hair. You twirl the dagger in your hands with ease, scoffing as you move to lie back down in your bed. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Ascian?” you question harshly, not at all willing to play nice. You weren’t quite ready to throw your life away, mouthing off to a being such as he; you were no fool. You were sure that even a child could sense the danger he exuded from his very being, but you also weren’t in the mood to deal with mind games.

“My, my, aren’t we touchy.” He comments, crossing his arms and looking down at you from his nose, his lips pulled in a condescending smirk. “I come to pay the vaunted hero a visit, and am only met with hostility. Surely you are not so inhospitable to all your guests?” He asks, voice lofty and teasing, making your brow furrow in irritation.

“If all you came here to do was mock me, I would prefer you leave me be.” Is your answer, wanting to close your eyes and ignore his presence. Sadly, even with his rather hands off approach to “aiding” your group as he had said he would, you didn’t quite trust him enough to blink, let alone rest around him. 

Choosing to lay on your side, you keep your eyes on him, taking notice of how his own rove across your body in a way that is almost curious. 

“Normally I would follow your request and be on my way, however I find my curiosity weighing out my apathy.” He crosses over to the nearby desk and you watch as he snaps his gloved fingers. With slight wonder, you watch in awe as the simple wooden chair transforms into an extravagant, plush lounge chair.

He reclines as a royal would, crossing one leg over the other as he stares you down, eyes somehow serious and taunting at once. “I find myself interested, and perhaps a tad too invested in what could possibly be upsetting you so. So by all means, let it out.” He grins, making a sweeping motion of his hand.

You regard him silently for a moment, wondering if he’s actually serious. It’s not often you find yourself presented with the opportunity of someone who will listen. Listen to your frustrations, your woes, your chagrin at having to be _you_. 

Of what it is to be the Warrior of Light.

“You’re not going to run off and tell Elidibus what a sad sack I am if I _do_ talk to you, are you?” You question, moving to sit up to put you on equal footing with the Ascian sitting across from you. He rudely snorts, the action somehow still elegant on him. “Hardly.” He scoffs.

“There’s not much to say really. I wish I wasn’t me.” You offer nonchalantly, missing the slight look of concern on his face.

“Do not waste my time by giving me clipped statements.”

Something in his voice makes you look at him again, reevaluate his presence in your room. He might be relaxed in his chair, but his focus is entirely on you. There is a muted demand to his last statement, an edge to his tone that maybe, just maybe, he actually _does_ want to listen to you.

“I don’t enjoy being the Warrior of Light.” You begin slowly, trying to judge his reaction but his face is as impassive as ever. 

“There was no way for me to predict that I would be Hydaelyn’s chosen,” you can’t help but giggle at how his face twists with disgust at Her name but you continue, “and be the sole Champion of Eorzea. I had only left home to go and see what the world had to offer, only to find that I was the sole savior the world had.” Just saying the words irritates you all over again, losing what calm you had.

“It’s not enough that the Source can’t stay saved, but I must also be the savior of _this_ world!” You hiss, baring your teeth at the ancient being before you. “Was it not enough that I had to liberate two nations? Strike down three Ascians, beings so old and powerful that I cannot even begin to imagine what any of you can do. More and more is constantly asked of me, and I…” 

You let out a staggered breath, shoulders slumping much like the man across from you. “I’m tired of it.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air between you, somehow heftier by the weight of his stare. You wonder what is going through his head. You take the time to quickly analyze his features, seeing as any time he deigned to make an appearance, the tension in the room would skyrocket and he would scurry off after sowing his chaos. 

He looks as tired as you, if not more so, the dark circles around his eyes strangely enhancing his sharp, handsome features. His golden eyes twinkle like the finest cut topaz, shimmering as if the very sun itself lights them despite how dimly lit your room is. His hair seems to fall a little too perfectly in place, the white streak of his hair standing out even against his pale skin.

“Perhaps you need a way to relieve the tension.”

His words snap you out of your silent appraisal, finding his expression has changed, his voice teasing. “Sadly screaming into my pillow and beating things up don’t make me feel better.” You huff, leaning back on your hands.

“Screaming into your pillow you say?” He echoes, chuckling at his own personal joke. “That very well may happen. My proposal was one of a far more pleasurable method of, as you mortals say, blowing off some steam.” He purrs, voice low and seductive, a baritone as smooth as a fine brandy.

You arch a single eyebrow at him, wondering if he was really offering what you thought he was offering.

“Are you propositioning me?”

Always best to make sure.

He barks out laughter at that, making a show of wiping his eye. “Never let it be said that the Warrior of Light went into things half sure.” He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, hero, I am offering you _release_ ; a union of our bodies to ease all that turmoil you’ve got building inside you.”

You can hear the amusement in his voice, and you quietly wonder if he has any secret motives by sleeping with you. However his words from days prior, that he only speaks the truth, leaves you doubting that he would use sex as a means to silence you.

Though you can’t deny, it would be very dramatic, and very much like him.

“If it is your own pleasure you worry about, fret not; I have had...years of practice.” He murmurs, bringing one hand to his lips to slowly pull his glove from his hand. You watch the action from start to finish, mind already wandering to how smooth his hand looked, and how great it would feel on your body.

“Very well.” Standing to your feet, you move to tower above him in even strides, looking down at the ancient being before you. “If it is release you’ll grant me, then I will allow it. However, it must be on _my_ terms.” Your voice leaves no room for argument, and you take pride in watching as his eyebrows raise toward his hairline for a moment. 

“By all means, hero. State your terms.” He makes no move to stop you as you move forward to kneel on the chair, straddling his lap with ease. He’s warm, which strikes you as strange, though you suppose that despite being an Ascian, he still has taken a mortal form. 

There is desire in those molten pools of his, and knowing it is directed at you is empowering. You place your hands, worn and torn from battle, upon his shoulders, shuddering beneath his touch as his hands settle themselves at your hips.

“If you wish to help me find release, then you must _please_ me.” You begin, taking care to watch for any change in his expression. “You must do as I say. Touch me how I wish. Take care of _me_.” His hands play with the hem of your nightshirt, his fingers sending sparks racing down your spine as he just barely brushes against your skin.

“So the vaunted hero wishes to be worshipped?” Though phrased like a question, it one of rhetorical nature, his eyes half lidded as they trail down your body. “A mere mortal asking worship of a Paragon. Hydaelyn’s chosen consorting with a bringer of darkness…”

His smirk is roguish as he finally slides his gaze back up to your own. “Why, if I were not here to hear the very words straight from your lips, I’d find myself disinclined to believe them.”

You take his chin by the hand, keep his focus locked on you. “I’m surprised you’re still alive, with all that pride you have.” You tilt his chin and he allows it; it is a control he bequeaths to you. “You probably don’t like that; having to bow to the whims of a mortal.” You finish with a click of your tongue, watching as fire lights behind his eyes.

“Is that a challenge, hero?” He mumbles, bottom lip poked out in a pout, eyes sparking with indignation.

“It’s your pride on the line, not mine.” You reply easily, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your waist. “However, I am not so callous as to prevent you to do anything you dislike. You will speak up if I do something you don’t like, won’t you?”

His eyes twinkle for a moment, his hands creeping underneath your shirt to finally grasp at your skin. “Of course.” he murmurs, eyes drifting from yours as he raises your shirt, exposing your skin to him. His eyes are hungry, and you wonder if he is more eager for release than you are.

“Let’s put these skills of yours to the test then, Ascian.” You huff, allowing him to raise your shirt high enough that his fingertips graze the underside of your breasts, glad he had chosen to come at this hour when you’ve forgone your undergarments. His touch is confident, self-assurance shining through every glance of his fingers on your tender flesh.

“Does the hero want me to sing her praises?” He questions, tilting his head as he looks at you from beneath his lashes. “To worship her as one would a god?”

“Yes.” You answer without hesitation, raising your arms to help him get your shirt off but he wills it away with a mere snap of his fingers. His hands climb higher, eyes drinking in your form though there is a distant look to them; as if he is looking _through_ you. “Touch me.” you demand, watching as his hands cup your breasts gently in his hands, running his thumbs across your nipples, now pebbled from his attentions.

“Your mouth...I want you to,” you don’t even get to finish the sentence before he leans forward and his lips press to the skin of your breast, teeth lightly nipping on a pert nipple that has you shuddering above him.

You must say that he is as skilled as he claims, his movements practiced and calculated as he tugs delicately with his teeth, knows just how much suction that has you writhing in his lap. He releases your breast with a pop, his breath ghosting across the now moist skin. “I do hope you are up for the challenge yourself, hero.”

His tone hints at pleasures unknown and stories untold, that you find yourself momentarily shaken, enraptured by the lust pooling in those gold eyes. Eager to take back control you fist your hand in his hair roughly, brows furrowing at his smirk. “Did I say you could talk?” you hiss, to which he snickers.

“Then what would you have me do?” He asks, hands moving to slip themselves to running down your back once more, his hands dipping to play with the top of your waistband. “Simply say what you desire, hero. I am more than willing to play the part.” The huskiness in his voice spurs you on, fuel to your already raging desire.

“I want you between my legs.” You state without pretense, not dropping your gaze as he rises from the chair, moving the two of you to the bed. When he lays you down you find that it too has changed, much like the chair from earlier. Gone are the cotton sheets, replaced instead with fine silk, caressing you much like his hands are. 

“I want to see you too.” You add, stopping him before he can settle himself above you. 

“As you wish.” He acknowledges, his robes dissolving into mist before your very eyes, baring his lean form above you. You didn’t expect him to have no meat on his bones, but it is still somewhat jarring all the same to see him bare before you; all hard lines and lean edges, a faint musculature that betrays the awesome power you know lurks beneath the surface.

You reciprocate the same shamelessness he had shown earlier with his appraisal of your own body, watching with rapt attention as he climbs into the bed to hover over your body.

You expect him to go straight between your legs but instead he busies himself with your neck, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin as his hands roam across your naked skin. “So quiet. Must I work for it?” He purrs against your skin, the sound going straight between your legs. 

He trails down with more kisses across your collarbone, the valley between your breasts. You slip your fingers into his hair as he continues his way downward, parting your legs so that you may hook them over his shoulders.

“Feeling inadequate Ascian?” You tease despite the breathlessness to your voice, seeing that mahogany hair with a streak of white between your thighs. With another snap of his fingers your bottoms are gone, leaving you fully nude to him.

“Never.” He says with a smirk, pressing gentle kisses to the skin of your inner thigh. You unintentionally jerk in his hold, knowing you are dripping wet for him and yet he will not touch you where you need it most.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a growl rising in your throat at his teasing. 

“I am between your legs, as requested.” He croons, caressing your thigh gently, pressing more kisses to your skin. “Or did you desire more from me?” 

He is obviously having too much of a good time with this, and that will not do.

“Eat me out.” You order, pressing your hips to his face. “I want you to make me come.” 

He holds your gaze for just a moment before he finally presses his mouth to your folds, testing the waters with small flicks of his tongue. The sight of his golden, hawk like eyes peeking from over your curls is erotic in itself, his tongue growing braver until he finally slips pasts your folds to seek the pink bud he knows is lying underneath. 

Whimpers begin to slip out as he devotes himself to his task, annoyance shining his eyes momentarily before they have that far away look to them once again. His tongue circles around your clit in a way that makes your head spin, your breaths coming fast until he pulls away.

“I will be the first to say that while your physical form is appealing…” He murmurs close to your dripping sex, breath sending shivers racing up your spine. “However...with _my_ sight I find your soul _far_ more beautiful.” 

You flush red at his praise, shivering as he brings a finger to slowly drag across your clit, his gaze almost awestruck at how you keen out your pleasure. “Loathe as I am to take demands from a mortal…” he trails off, moving to press a kiss to your folds, drinking down your nectar. “Your soul shines far too wonderfully like this.” 

You’re sure you feel your heart skip a beat for a moment, caught halfway between embarrassment and affection. He resumes his task with ardor, his eyes fluttering shut despite his prior comment on enjoying the appearance of your soul. 

Perhaps he doesn’t need to actually _see_ to look upon your soul, but most coherent thought goes out the window as Emet-Selch flicks his tongue at your sex, unashamed of the mess you’re making of his face in his bid to please you. His eyes are open again, staring through you, _into_ you, and you wonder what you must look like to him.

The thought of someone as powerful and ancient as him steals your breath away. It makes your thighs clench tighter and your heels dig harder into his back. If it hurts, he doesn’t complain, if anything it spurs him on further, his movements growing more insistent. The moans finally begin to flow forth, filling the room that you haven’t realized has slowly changed, so caught up in chasing your pleasure.

He’s found what rhythm you like, what makes you moan loudest and it’s a continuous push to the edge with no signs of stopping. You pray that none of the Scions will suddenly require your presence, for you’re sure that your moans are quite audible from outside the door, and this is the last thing you want to explain to them.

How does one explain taking an Ascian to bed? What words could smooth over the fact that one of your greatest enemies currently lies nestled between your thighs, lapping at your folds as if a man dying of thirst and gazing at you like a blind man seeing for the first time? 

It’s wrong, it's oh so wrong and you know it, and yet you find yourself unable to convince yourself to push yourself away from the Ascian to stop him, though from his grip on your thighs, he wouldn’t let you leave if you tried.

You watch hazily as one of his hands reaches downward, a moan pulled from his throat as he strokes his length. While his moan excites you, how deep and rich it was, you will not let him be distracted from his task.

None too gently do you pull his mouth away from your sex, urging him upward so that you may flip him beneath you. “It’s not your turn.” You huff, warmth blooming in your chest at how his eyes rove across your form in a way akin to reverence, eyes still glittering as he uses his sight to peer at your soul.

Pressing him on his back you climb higher until your hips rest just above his face, and from there he needs no further instruction as he presses his mouth to your clit once more, a low and throaty moan tugged from him as you pull at his hair.

You can’t help but take a peek at his length behind you, noticing just how _hard_ he is, and you haven’t even touched him. You wonder if he really is that excited solely from pleasuring you, a pearl of precum leaking from the tip that you’re eager to taste, but not right now. Not when he slips a finger into your aching hole and thrusts it in time with his tongue working your clit, his name torn from your lips in a sigh as you press your hips further into his face. 

He makes no sound of protest as you do so, that eagerness he had displayed before returning full force that has your legs quivering to keep yourself upright. Pleas for more tumble forth from your lips, his eyes holding yours in a gaze so intense that you find yourself unable to look away.

A second finger slips in with the first, thrusting at a fierce pace that practically has you sobbing in ecstasy atop him. It feels so godsdamned good, you feel ready to overload after having denied yourself release for so long.

You’re not sure when you started begging for him to make you come, for him to finally give you that last push you needed, but he curls his fingers _just so_ and you fall apart atop him, crying out his name in abandon as your orgasm shakes you, barely able to support yourself on your arms as white hot pleasure shoots to every nerve ending in your body. 

You moan in light protest as he continues to lap at your core, his fingers having retreated but his attention has not. “E-Enough,” you breathe shakily, hardly able to move yourself from atop him to flop on the bed. You feel him shift to move and as you turn to face him you freeze, feeling every bit the proverbial lamb before the golden eyes of the wolf. 

His lips shine with your juices, pink tongue coming to swipe across them. His eyes are half lidded as he stares down at you. Though he is currently in the dominant position, his gaze speaks of subservience; a need to please that has your lust spiking all over again as you roll to your back to fully face him.

“Where would you have me next?” He asks, moving to hover above you, caging you with his arms. You let your own snake around his neck, tickling the fine hairs at the nape as you bring him closer to you. 

“Inside me.” You whisper, feeling suddenly hesitant to kiss him. The decision is made for you when he closes the gap, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip to get you to open up for him. 

Soon enough do you take over the kiss, having him moaning into your mouth as you reach between the two of you to stroke his cock. “I want you to fuck me.” You hiss, feeling how hot and _ready_ he is in your hands. 

He lets loose a low chuckle, the baritone of his voice rumbling through you. “Such vulgar words, Warrior of Light.” he purrs, lining himself up with your entrance. 

You feel the head nudge past your folds, your hips already angling to try and take him inside before he can even push himself inside. “I find myself quite willing to obey, so long as you let me see that wonderful soul of yours.” 

“What’s so,” Your inquiry is cut off as he finally pushes inside, feeling as if the breath was knocked out of you at his girth. He just barely pushes your limits, your body doing it’s best to adjust to his length as he presses kisses to your jawline. “Twelve above…” you moan, rolling your hips against him that has him thrumming against you.

“Yes, just like that.” He praises, pulling out slowly, letting you feel the length of him before thrusting back in, making sure you’re adjusted. He continues that slow pace, watching you closely for any discomfort, but you haven’t the heart to tell him you’re simply wrapped in so much bliss that your body feels as if it can barely take it.

“W-What does it look like?” You ask, breath hitching as he just barely brushed against that _spot_ inside of you. “My soul, I mean..” 

It took every ounce of effort you had to form coherent sentences with Emet-Selch thrusting inside you, his strokes measured and purposeful. Even in this was he skilled, as if he was determined to make sure the only noises you were making were lustful sighs or wanton moans.

When he smirks at you, his own hair mussed, skin flushed, you find he looks incredibly charming. “Normally it is the color of the sky. What the sky is supposed to look like. A dazzling, brilliant blue.” 

His hands move to clutch your hips, gripping with surprising strength as the same smirk turns devilish. He brings you down hard on his cock, pleasure shooting through you as he stays hilted inside you. “It flares crimson like a sunset when you make your demands.” 

You gaze up at him in wonder as he finally sets a steady pace, making your back arch in invitation to which he readily accepts. Bending over he takes a nipple between his teeth, nibbling lightly until his mouth engulfs it entirely, tongue swiping over the sensitive bud in perfect synchronization with his thrusts that has you mewling like a cat beneath him. 

“Fuck me,” you demand, though it comes out a plea with how pleasure filled your voice is, your arms clutching him tightly as you meet his thrusts. “Fuck me like you mean it,” Your taunt is cut off by your own moan as he plunges deep inside, his moan dancing with your own as he pistons his hips into your wet sheathe. 

You’re glad he had changed the bed, the room to much finer material because you are positive that the old, rickety cot would’ve left no pretenses as to just what was going on in your room with how forceful his thrusts were. 

You had forgotten that there would be strength in the lean muscle that was currently flexing beneath your greedy hands; muscle that was now being put to use as Emet-Selch drove himself inside you, his mouth hanging open to make room for his sharp breaths as he plunged deep inside you.

He buries his face in your shoulder, your hand fists in his hair as he rocks into you at a brutal pace, giving you just what you desired, or rather at this point _needed_. There is something else you need, before it is all said and done.

You carefully roll the two of you over, the surprise in his eyes endearing as you straddle yourself atop him, hands flat on his chest as you begin to raise and lower your hips onto him. Now he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, your eyes fluttering shut as you race toward oblivion, your body seemingly moving on its own accord. 

“E-Emet,” you whine, feeling yourself so very close that edge. Distantly you realize you’re not ready for it to be over yet, not ready for him to stop looking at you as if he had not seen something so magical. 

The choice is taken from your hands as he rubs at your clit and you come undone, crying out his name in release. Stars dance behind your eyelids as your orgasm sweeps you away, feeling Emet-Selch follow you soon after with your body clenching him so tightly.

The two of you lie there for a few moments, catching your breath as you bask in the afterglow. He is the first to move by trailing a hand lightly on the skin of your back, seeming to be content with the silence as you come down from your high. 

You shift to meet his gaze, which you’re surprised to find calm and affectionate. “Well?” He prompts, the corners of his lips pulling into a satisfied grin. “I made good on my word, I hope?”

You hum thoughtfully for a moment to tease him, giggling at his displeased expression. “Yes. It was more than satisfactory.” You concede, giving him a mischievous grin of your own as you trail your finger across his chest. “And you? You seemed to enjoy yourself quite a bit.” You tease, pleased to see him suddenly unable to look you in the eye.

“Yes, well...it certainly wasn’t a waste of my time.” He scoffs, giving your skin a light pinch, smirking at your yelp of pain. 

“I have half a mind to crush my head between my thighs Ascian.” You snarl, giving him a hard jab, to which he gives a genuine laugh. 

“If that is your way of asking for another go Warrior, I find myself ready for the task.” His touch turns heavy as it snakes down your body, his voice but a whisper as he holds you close. 

You try to ignore the way your heart flutters at his amorous actions, but find yourself unable when his eyes glitter, knowing he is looking upon the beauty of your soul. It is certainly not the strangest compliment you’ve received, but it is by far the best.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to find out more about this work, you can check it out on my [tumblr page](https://jenovahh.tumblr.com/post/189240070178/comm-03-nsfw-glitter)!


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